The Others
by Precambrian Studios
Summary: When a string of similar supernatural kidnappings occur across London, Batman realizes the League is out of its element and decides to bring in the Other Team, one only just recently formed to deal with such phenomena. Meanwhile, a member of the original Team happens to be in London...
1. The Hellblazer

Beads of sweat fell down his face as the man, in a frenzied panic, took another left and descended deeper into the concrete maze that was the infuriating system of London alleyways. Only too late did he realize his mistake, as he ran right into a dead end. He turned around to face his pursuer. For some reason, they made him afraid. He was hardly ever afraid. Above his head, a concealed, panoramic security camera whirred.

"What do you want?" he asked his pursuer. "If you want money, I have lots of that-"

 **WE DO NOT WANT YOUR MONEY, HOB GADLING. OR YOU DO YOU PREFER SIR ROBERT?**

Hob's eyes went wide and he felt himself swallow. He hadn't been addressed by that name for a very, _very_ long time. "Have we met?" he asked.

 **NO. WE ARE HERE FOR YOUR SECRET.**

He knew what they meant. Now he was truly afraid. Hob swallowed and said in a trembling voice, "Then trust me, mate. You're going to have a very hard time cracking it."

 **WE WILL SEE ABOUT THAT,** ** _IMMORTAL_** **.**

Tendrils of shadow snaked up Hob Gadling's feet and over his legs, planting him to the ground. He could only watch in horror as the dark vines crept slowly and slowly upward until he could feel them caressing his neck. He looked up into the night sky and screamed.

 **1:42 AM. Watchtower.**

The keys spread across the Watchtower's main computer console clacked rapidly and rhythmically as Batman furiously entered in a series of commands. Up in front of him, square-shaped holographic displays expanded to show a series of videos and photographs, each one showing a different crime scene. He had been investigating this case for two days, and he was beginning to suspect that he was out of his element. It was…a queasy feeling.

"Working the late night shift again, Bruce?" came a voice from behind him. Superman. And judging from the smell wafting gently towards him, the Man of Steel was having a hot cup of African coffee straight from the galley.

"I was looking over some security footage that's been circulating on the English news channels," Batman explained as Superman walked up by his side. "There have been a recent string of kidnappings, but the victims don't seem to have any significant connections, at least none that I've found yet. Digging up info relating to the victims is harder than I thought. I have managed to get all their names and occupations. Check them out." He pressed a key and several more holographic panels appeared before Superman's eyes.

He took the last sip of his coffee and read them over. "Hob Gadling, exporter. William Forsythe, police officer. Geraldine Carver, lawyer. And name unknown, homeless. All spread throughout England. There has to be _something_ solid connecting them, right?"

"Right. Look." Batman played one of the security clips: a dark-skinned woman in a grey suit holding a briefcase, walking out of a building during night time. "Carver," Batman said. Suddenly in the feed, her eyes went wide, she dropped her briefcase, and she tried to run before it looked like something held her in place. Then the feed cut momentarily. When it was restored, Geraldine Carver had vanished.

"They're all the same," Batman said. "They look afraid, confront someone who isn't there, the feed cuts for 1.24 seconds and they're gone."

"Could it be a form of nanotechnology?" Superman asked. "Or a transporter like ours?"

"If it were either, they would show up in some of the filters. No results. And _nothing_ evades WayneTech. That leaves only two plausible explanations. One: this is a very elaborate hoax perpetrated by all four of these individuals. The more likely option is-"

"Magic," Superman concluded. "Where's Fate?"

"Off-world along with Zatanna and most of the other members of the JLD, helping to repair the Necropolis," Batman said. "It'll take them over a week to get back, and with the possibility that there be more kidnappings, we can't just wait."

"So, what do we do? Who else can we call?"

Batman finally turned around to look at Superman. "I think…this might be a good opportunity to test the Others."

Superman's eyebrow arched upwards; he was skeptical. "Are you sure? They haven't been assigned on any official missions yet-"

"We have to test them eventually, Clark. But we just need to talk to _him,_ first."

Superman thought it over for a moment, then he nodded in agreement. "Okay. Bring him up."

Batman turned back around and entered more commands into the computer. He pressed down on EXECUTE. "Materialization in progress," said the distinctly female voice of the Watchtower computer.

Batman and Superman walked to the 'landing pad' where all transporter individuals wound up, together.

"Have you ever met him before?" Batman asked.

"Once," Superman said. "When we formed the JLD, the year after the Reach were defeated. He didn't strike me as much of a team player."

"That's why he let Zatanna take his place," Batman said.

They arrived at the pad, where a form was beginning to take shape. From the glowing whiteness, a man appeared; his hair was blond and a scar ran down his face. He wore a tan trench coat, a black tie, white shirt, and a very disgruntled look on his face.

"Aw, what do you want?" he grumbled at Batman. "Didn't anyone ever tell ye it's impolite to re-arrange someone's molecular pattern without asking first?" Then, he noticed Superman, and a half-smile formed on his face. "Oh, this _must_ be important, eh? Interesting."

"You haven't been answering your comm, Constantine," Batman said. "This was the only way we could talk to you."

"Yeh, sorry 'bout that," said John Constantine, notorious con-artist and sorcerer. He rubbed the back of his head, and when he took his hand away, he found fine grains sitting in his palm. Sand. He blew it all away. "Lost it when I went on a little vacation." He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. Before he could light it, Superman coughed. Constantine looked up and saw him pointing to a bronze sign sitting on the main elevator shaft: No Smoking. Constantine grumbled and put it away. "So, let's cut to the chase here. Whad'you big wigs want? And if it has anything to do with the chimera that ran through Bath the other week, I promise you I had nothing to do with it."

Superman and Batman exchanged somewhat concerned glances. "No, John. Not about the chimera, promise," Superman said. Constantine let out a sigh of relief.

"There have been a recent string of what we believe to be supernatural kidnappings," Batman explained. "Whether they are or not, we're assigning your Team to investigate."

Constantine was taken aback. "Really? Hm." Now feeling wary, he said, "I thought one of the precedents for making the Other Team was that we would be solely be under the jurisdiction of the Justice League Dark-"

"The JLD is currently away, so we're asking of this of you, John," Superman said kindly. "If you don't believe your team is ready, then we won't send them out on this assignment."

"Hm." Constantine grunted and closed his eyes as he thought it over. On the one hand, his "team" was only comprised of two people and they had little to no field experience yet. If any mistakes were made, the Other Team was finished. But on the flipside…they were both very powerful, and giving them the chance to test their abilities could finally give them the chance to do some real good. Hopefully.

Constantine decided that it was worth a shot. He looked back up at them and flashed the two senior members of the league a toothy grin that did little to reassure either of them. "The Others can do it. Trust me, boys. We'll sort it out right."

-Young Justice, John Constantine, Hob Gadling, the Necropolis, and the Justice League Dark were not made by me and are the property of their respective creators.


	2. The Pathway Between Waking Hours

**6:42 AM. London**

The fog blanketing the shipping yard was so dense that not even the light of the rising sun could cut through it: the perfect cover for a detective that didn't want to be seen. Nimble and light-footed, Nightwing was easily able to maneuver past the dock workers as he made his way inside a dilapidated warehouse sitting by the waterfront.

Even the inside of the aging building was shrouded in mist, on account of all the broken windows that had allowed the fog to seep in. However, all the brightly-colored crates inside were still quite visible. Nightwing brandished a scanner, designed to detect the chemical DR-X9, from his utility belt. He pointed it at each of the crates as he walked past them. Eventually, it began to beep. "Gotcha," he said with a smile.

Just as he approached the crate, he heard the familiar sound of a boot crushing glass. In an instant he had whirled around and there was a batarang in his hand…but no one was there. He looked around for a minute to check, but still, no one. "Ooookay," he said.

CRASH! Nightwing looked up in time to see a pair of crates falling towards him. He dove out of the way as the crates crashed beside him. Leaping back onto his feet, Nightwing looked up again and saw vines retreating out of the hole in the warehouse ceiling. He ascended using his grappling hook, but by the time he was on the roof, the assailant was gone. _Ivy?_ he thought. _No, she's locked in Belle Reve…_

Meanwhile below, the dock workers began to flood into the warehouse to inspect the cause of the noise. "Well," Nightwing said, "There goes my morning." He cracked his neck and sighed. By the time that the fog lifted mere minutes later, he was long gone.

A few hours afterwars, Dick Grayson was out of uniform and back at his apartment building in downtown London. He had barely even inserted the key into the building's lock when a familiar voice exclaimed, "Aha! So this is where you've been hiding!"

Dick started, then he smiled. "I guess someone had to find me eventually." He turned around to face M'gann M'orzz. She was in her standard human disguise, although she'd grown her hair out again since the last time they'd seen each other. On account of the cool weather, she wore a long green overcoat.

"Hey Dick," she said, smiling. She extended her arms, and they hugged.

XXXX

"So, how's everyone?" Dick asked M'gann via their telepathic connection as a waitress brought the pair of friends and former teammates plates of food. They sat in the outside seating area of an uptown London restaurant. He imagined they looked strange to the other patrons; just smiling pleasantly to each other as they carried on their conversation in their minds.

"Everyone's good," M'gann replied. She took a sip from a cup of coffee. "Like I said, most of the original team's away at the moment, so Mal's heading operations. Kaldur took Conner to see Atlantis, Artemis is training some new recruits in the Himalayas, and…well, I assume you know where Zatanna went, right?"

Dick nodded. "Off-world, to some kind of intergalactic mortuary."

"Uh huh."

"How about you? Did you know you'd find me here?"

"No. Uncle John put me on a mandatory vacation period. So I thought I'd come here; I've always wanted to visit London. As for finding you, it's not like you tried to cover your tracks."

"True."

"So, what've you been doing?"

He hesitated. "Stuff."

M'gann raised an eyebrow. "Don't make me read your mind, Dick."

"Ah, fine," he said. "Lately, I've been tracking some shipments coming out of New York and Gotham. Some kind of chemical that's rumored to extend the human lifespan."

"More Reach tech? Leftover from the invasion?"

"No idea. Maybe. It's just that-"

"Got a penny, lad?" A hunched woman wearing wide-brimmed hat and a coat several sizes to big for her pushing a cart had appeared; she was clearly homeless. She held her hand out towards Dick. "Penny for me lunch?"

Dick took out his wallet without a second thought and withdrew a five-pound note. He handed it to her. "Hope that helps," he said.

"And this," M'gann said. She handed her a single pound.

The woman slid the notes under his nose and sniffed it. She exhaled loudly. "Ah yes, a good few quid. Bless ye, kiddies." The woman moved on.

"Maybe that's what we'll be doing some day," M'gann said.

Dick was taken aback. "Pushing a cart around?"

"Hm? Oh, no! I meant, y'know, fighting homelessness. Once all the supervillains are all locked up."

"That'd be nice," Dick said sincerely, although he knew it was a fruitless hope.

"Anyways, what were you saying?" M'gann said.

Dick coughed and said, "Well, I actually don't think what I found is Reach tech because-"

"AAAAAAAH!"

The two young superheroes shot to their feet as the same homeless woman made a mad dash past them. "No, no, no!" she screamed. "You can't have my life! Can't can't can't!"

And she ran down the street, still screaming. While the other restaurant patrons had already sat back down, dismissing her as another crazy, Dick and M'gann took off in pursuit.

"Can you read her thoughts?" Dick asked out loud. "What's going on with her?"

M'gann's eyes glowed for a few seconds. She gasped, and her skin went back to green for a brief moment. "Something terrible's chasing her."

"What?"

"I can't tell exactly, but it's old. And powerful."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"She's turning down that alley!" Dick exclaimed.

The homeless woman shot into a gap between a set of apartment buildings. She was _fast._ By the time they had dashed into the same alley, which ended in a dead end, the woman had disappeared.

"I…I can't hear her thoughts," M'gann said. "She's gone."

"Yeh, that much is obvious," said a voice behind the two.

Dick and M'gann turned around and assumed combat stances as a man in a trench coat walked up to them, a cigarette hanging between his lips. "Mind-reading, eh? You two kids wouldn't happen to be part of that little junior Justice League, are ye?"

"Who wants to know?" Dick asked.

"Nightwing," M'gann said telepathically, "I can't read his thoughts. Whoever he is, he's powerful."

" _And_ he's old," Dick said out loud. "Was he the one you sensed before?"

John Constantine blew a ring of smoke out of his mouth. "Now, hold on a minute! Who are you two brats calling _old?_ "

"Can you knock him out so we can question him later?" Dick asked M'gann through their mental link.

"Not a problem," she replied.

Knocking someone out telepathically was easy; she had refined the technique over the years with the help of her uncle's training. She made her way through the mind, past the physical barrier of the skull. She swam through fluids and rode the synapses, until she got to the hippocampus-

FIRE. FIRE AND SCREAMING AND PAIN. A MAN WITH RED SKIN AND EYES GLOWING WITH HATRED. AS HE LAUGHED THE FLAMES GREW HIGHER AND THE PAIN GREW WORSE….

"M'gann!" Dick cried out as she screamed and clawed at her eyes. Then, as quick as her terror had come, it ceased. Miss Martian fainted; she fell to her knees and Dick caught her before she could fall onto the hard, wet concrete.

Constantine flicked away his cigarette and lit another. "Sorry about that, boy. I don't take kindly to people trying to get in my head. She's not even the most powerful to try. She'll be fine, trust me."

The moment Nightwing had gently placed Miss Martian down, he drew a batarang and threw it at Constantine. Before it could bury itself in the middle-aged magician's forehead, the blades became wings and what had only just been a weapon squeaked and flew away in search of somewhere dark. Nightwing's jaw dropped; his batarang had become an actual bat.

"John Constantine," Constantine introduced himself. "Case you were wonderin' who I am. It's good fortune I came across you, lad. The bigger rodent and his bigger friend have asked me and the kids _I_ have to babysit to investigate some vanishings, as it were. You saw Mad Hettie there disappear. Your help would be welcome, but for now, what say you we get you and yer girl there somewhere comfy? Least I can do for showing her Hell."

"I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me-"

"All in due time, lad, all in due time," Constantine interjected. "But not here. At the Sanctum." And he muttered an incantation in what Nightwing recognized as a very old sub-dialect of Pig Latin. As he continued the incantation, Constantine's voice seemed to grow louder and louder. The sky darkened…no, the world _itself_ was darkening. As Nightwing looked down and saw that nothing was underneath his feet anymore, he fell, and he fell. He didn't know if it would ever stop.

 _M'gann M'orzz was lost and she didn't know why or where what was. There were no walls and suddenly there were and they trapped her. They were getting closer. Closer. She screamed and then her body tore itself apart as the flames of Hell melted her green skin, revealing white sinew and pink muscle._

 _She stumbled around in her White Martian form until she reached a gate guarded by three queer creatures of unknowable shape. They spoke plain threats and fair warnings, and she was through the gate. M'gann walked up a winding path inside a castle until she reached a dais…was it a dais? No, it was throne, upon which was a shape._

 _The shape's form was indeterminable. For a moment, it looked like a man; pale and thin. Then he became a great black skull bathed in flame: M'gann felt herself tremble as she recognized Lord L'Zoril, the Martian god of dreams. Then the shape was her: a White Martian, but taller. And black. Where its eyes should have been were pits far darker than its skin._

 _"You seek lost souls, child," said the Black Martian. His voice had a certain tenor that seemed to reverberate through the air like the strings on a violin that had only just been plucked._

 _For reasons she couldn't explain, M'gann was terrified. "I don't know what you're talking about, lord."_

 _"Oh? Hm. Perhaps it is not yet time," murmured the Black Martian. Then it shrugged. "It is no matter. You will be searching for them soon. One of these souls is a friend of mine. I would see him unharmed. I have some wisdom for you, child of Mars."_

 _"Wh-what wisdom, lord?" M'gann asked._

 _A pinprick of red light emanated from one of the Black Martian's eyes. "The one whom currently possesses the lost souls is an ancient entity of great power. It is not to be underestimated. It will try to seduce you to its side with false promises. Although these promises could very well be carried out, do not heed them. The entity will consume you, and you will know an agony far worse than what is known."_

 _"But what am I fighting, lord?" M'gann asked._

 _"It has no name. Not yet, at least," said the Black Martian. It sighed. "Time is run out. Fare well, child of Mars. Save Hob Gadling."_

 _The Black Martian turned back into Lord L'Zoril and erupted in purple flames that engulfed M'gann. But she felt a sensation warm and safety instead of pain._

When Miss Martian woke up, she was suspended in the air alongside Nightwing by thick vines that were wrapped around their wrists. And it was very dark.


	3. The Elemental and The Hunter

Somewhere in the void in which he had been thrown, Nightwing began to feel himself slip away as the nothingness clawed at his body and mind.

 _This is nice,_ he thought. _Floating, safe here. M'gann would love it…M'gann…M'gann!_ The knowledge that his friend was out there somewhere gave him purpose again in the void. As he continued to fall, he reached out for anything, but there was nothing. He concentrated, hoping that _somehow,_ that would help. Nothing. He shut his eyes and pinched himself. Still falling.

At a complete loss for options, Nightwing began throwing batarangs in random directions, in the hope that one would find its way to John Constantine.

And as a matter of fact, one did. As part of Constantine's spell to move his hosts and himself, it was required that he be the last to move through the void. So as he was about to step into the shimmering black pool that Nightwing and Miss Martian had sunk into, one of the batarangs flew out and collided with Constantine's chest, throwing him backward and breaking his concentration.

"Gah!" he grunted as he fell onto his behind and the gateway closed again. He swore very loudly and angrily. "Bloody vigilante brats and their bloody toys," he grumbled as he stood back up and began to mutter the incantation again.

Meanwhile, although the spell had been broken on Constantine's end, it had not on the other, and so Nightwing and Miss Martian reached their destination unharmed; a pool of white spat them back out and tossed them both bodily into the air. Miss Martian, who had turned back to her natural shade of green, fell roughly onto the grassy ground, while Nightwing expertly landed on his feet. He took his sunglasses out from his pocket and pushed them up the bridge of his nose before donning his utility belt, which he had kept inside his jacket.

As he stood up, the first thing he noticed was that they were in a forest; towering redwoods stood around them like sentries and provided copious shade from the sun. The second: there were _fairies._ Small, winged people fluttered through the air, staring down at the two heroes and whispering harshly, wondering who these two strangers were, where they had come from, and why they looked so strange. _No, not fairies,_ Nightwing thought, remembering his mythology lessons at Gotham Academy. _Sprites._

Nightwing tore his eyes away from the fluttering people and rushed to Miss Martian's side. "M'gann," he said as he knelt down to take her pulse: it was normal. He laid her on her back and lightly shook her shoulders. "M'gann, can you hear me?"

She whispered something unintelligible, and remained unconscious. Nightwing lifted her up and took one of her arms around his shoulder. "C'mon," he said. "Let's see if we can find…" and he saw the sprites again, "…I don't know. Anything else."

He had barely dragged his friend a few feet when a thin green vine shot of the ground in a burst of soil and wrapped itself around Nightwing's leg. He let out a shout of surprise and, still holding Miss Martian up, withdrew one of his extendable escrima sticks from his utility belt and stabbed it into the vine. Several thousand volts of electricity flowed down from the stick into the vine, and it burst into flames. Had Nightwing been wearing his suit, the leftover energy would have traveled back along the specialized fibers into the escrima sticks. Instead, he cried out in pain as a hole was burned into his trousers.

The vine turned to ash and he thought, _Ivy?_ Vines were definitely the Gotham supercriminal's style. _Here? But she's still in Arkham-_

Larger vines, each one half a foot thick and spiked, burst forth from the ground. Overhead, the sprites squealed and flew into multiple different directions in a panic. Nightwing was finally forced to drop Miss Martian as he flipped away from the vines. He ran from them, only for more to shoot forth and fly towards him. He fended them off with the escrima sticks as best he could, but he soon realized that he was being overwhelmed. Nightwing withdrew his grapple gun and shot it at a redwood branch. The air whooshed as he ascended.

As he swung around and perched himself, Nightwing saw to his horror that the vines were going for Miss Martian. "No!" he exclaimed. He threw smoke bombs around her, but as he swooped down to retrieve her, another vine wrapped around his leg and brought him bodily down to the ground as the other vines, unaffected by the smoke, wrapped around Miss Martian's body and suspended her in the air by her arms.

"You think your petty toys can hurt me?" said a distinctly young, female voice. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Why are you here, human?"

He assumed a combat stance with both sticks in his hands. The vines had formed a circle around him; they hissed and swayed like snakes about to strike. "Why are _you_ here, Ivy?" he asked.

"Ivy?" said the voice. "Who's Ivy…oh. _Poison_ Ivy. Sorry, not her."

"So who are you? Show yourself!" Nightwing said.

"Not until you tell me why you're here," said the voice. "And make it fast. Or I'll start breaking your friend's bones." Miss Martian hung precariously above his head. Nightwing was tempted to say that Miss Martian was practically impossible to seriously injure, but restrained himself. Better for this girl to think she had the advantage. "We were sent here," he said.

"By who?" she asked.

"I didn't see his face."

There was a rush and Nightwing felt the breath leave him as the vines shot around him and lifted him into the air. He hung right next to Miss Martian. Her eyes were still firmly shut.

"You're a bad liar," said the hidden girl. "Last chance before I start breaking _your_ bones too."

Nightwing weighed his options. Either this girl was a friend to Constantine, in which case he was in even deeper trouble, or she was a foe. Or she could have no idea who it was.

"I'm waiting!" she exclaimed in a tone akin to that of an impatient teenager. Nightwing gasped as the vines wrapped around his entire body and began to squeeze like a boa constrictor. As his breath left him, he realized he was getting light-headed. If he didn't act fast, he would pass out and be unable to help Miss Martian. At this point, there was only one thing left to do.

"Constantine," Nightwing gasped. "John Constantine."

The vines loosened. "John sent you here?" said the voice. "Why?"

"I don't know," he said sincerely. "We were going to help this homeless woman being chased and he showed up. He knocked out M'g…my friend and sent us here."

There was a long pause. Wind blew through the forest; a leaf hit Nightwing in the face. Then, from out of the ground, _something_ began to rise. It wasn't a vine; it was far larger, human-sized. For a moment, it looked like a tall mound of mulch. Then it grew limbs. A head. A form-fitting blue t-shirt appeared, as well as a pair of jeans.

"I'm sorry," said the humanoid mound as white hair began to sprout from its head, "if I'd known that that jerk had sent you-"

And then the world was dark as the batcave the time its lights went out. Nightwing could only see Miss Martian and the vines that held her.

"Tim!" screeched the girl. "What are you doing?!"

 _They can't see our faces,_ said a male voice that reverberated off of the redwoods. _How can you be sure he knows John?_

"Ugh…Dick?" said M'gann groggily. "Wh-what's going on?"

"Well," he said, "we've been captured by a girl that can control plants." The unseen girl and boy continued to argue loudly amongst themselves. "And she's not happy with someone. Can you get out? You can free me and we'll run under the cover of darkness."

 _No way,_ said the male voice. _You two are staying put._ Dick and M'gann both winced as they realized that they forgot to keep their thoughts to themselves.

"As if," said Miss Martian. She became intangible and escaped her bonds. The vines tightened around air.

"Tim!" exclaimed the girl. "For the love of god, turn the lights back on or so help me I'll feed Yo-Yo to my venus fly traps!"

"Oh, would you all calm down for bloody sake!" There was a loud whirring sound like a jet engine as Constantine finally emerged through a dark hole suspended in the air that vanished instantly as he stepped through it. "Tim!" he shouted to the sky. "Reverse the incantation or _I_ will. And let the boy go."

 _But John-_

"Now!" he roared.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the darkness slowly evaporated like water under a lamp. Nightwing quickly looked around and saw Constantine trading glares with the plant-girl; a young woman with long, snow-white hair wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Her gaze was piercing, to say the least.

"Why did you bring two people here without talking to us, John?" she asked roughly. "You promised that you'd talk about stuff like this-"

"Sorry luv, had me fingers crossed," John Constantine said with a half-smile.

"Don't call me 'luv,'" said the girl.

Constantine looked at Nightwing. "You all right there, boy? Hope my daughter here didn't hurt ye or yer friend. And speaking of, where is she?"

"Your daughter?" Nightwing said with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Miss Martian reappeared beside him.

"I am NOT your daughter," the young woman affirmed angrily. "No matter what you say."

Constantine arched an eyebrow at her before lighting a cigarette, which seemed to only make the young woman angrier. "Justice League brats," Constantine said, looking at Nightwing and Miss Martian, " _my_ brat, Tefé Holland."

 _Nightwing and Miss Martin? Aw, cool! Hold on a sec, I'll be right down._

As odd as that had sounded on the circumstances, Nightwing didn't dwell on it for long; something had suddenly clicked in his head. "Holland?" Suddenly, her control over plant matter made sense. "You're Alec Holland's daughter. The Swamp Thing's daughter." He'd seen a file on the Swamp Thing in Batman's computer; Alec Holland had been a scientist before his consciousness had bonded to a humanoid mass of plant matter.

M'gann frowned, confused. "Why do you say you're her father then?" she asked Constantine.

"It's complicated," he shrugged. "And a little…intimate. Wouldn't want to hurt your innocent little ears with the details, missie."

"Hey, daddy-o," Tefé said in a faux-Liverpudlian accent that dripped with sarcasm, "can for the millionth flippin' time, why are they here?"

"We'd like to know that ourselves," Nightwing said. Miss Martian nodded in assent.

Constantine was about to explain when there was a bang like a cannon and a boy appeared. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans, as well as a massive pair of round spectacles that dangled precariously on the edge of his nose. As he pushed them up the bridge, a brown owl appeared. It flapped its wings furiously as it settled on his shoulder.

"Aw man, this is cool!" said the boy (not the owl, in case you were operating the false pretense that owls could speak English). So you're actually Nightwing and Miss Martian? And you've met Superman?" the boy, who looked no older than fourteen, asked giddily.

Miss Martian blinked at him. "H-Harry Potter?"

The boy's smile vanished. "Aw, c'mon, not again," he groaned.

"This is Tim Hunter," Constantine explained. "Magician in training."

"And the world's worst roommate," Tefé grumbled.

That seemed to touch a nerve: Tim cried out indignantly, "I told you I was sorry about your fern! I didn't mean to disintegrate it-"

"You still could have practiced it on something else! Like the fairies!"

Tim's mouth fell open. "They're _people,_ Tefé. I can't use them like guinea pigs. They have feelings-"

"And my plants don't?" Tefé suddenly looked absolutely livid; her fists were clenched and vines began shooting up out of the ground. "What gives you the right to play with life like that, Tim?"

"You're the one who just told me I should have practiced on the sprites!" Tim exclaimed. "You're the crazy one here, Tefé!"

"ENOUGH!"

Tefé and Tim both fearfully froze at the sound of Constantine's shout. He glowered at them and said, "Christ. Y'know, when the Justice League Dark put me in charge of training the two potentially most powerful people on Earth, I didn't imagine it would be like babysitting a pair of high-school brats."

Miss Martian and Nightwing both stared, bewildered, at the two. _They were_ the most powerful people on the planet? Them? A girl who controlled vines and a boy with an owl? Surely he was exaggerating…

Constantine turned to Nightwing and Miss Martian. "That's part of the reason I brought you two here. Big kids like you ought to get their undisciplined butts in line."

"And what's the other reason?" Miss Martian asked, unsure if she wanted to know. "And while we're asking questions, where exactly are we?"

Constantine flicked his worn-out cigarette away. It landed in a patch of moist grass, earning him a murderous glare from Tefé. "Well, this is where the Other Team lives. Or rather, where these two live, since they're the only team members thus far.

"Oh, also, if my hunch is correct," and Constantine lit another cigarette, "They're going to need you two to help them to defeat a millennium-old demon that feeds off people's life forces and scares the living daylights out of me."


End file.
